Snowy Elixir: Formula for Death

By Roberto de Haro

Dale Lipinski is a trained killer, ex-cop, and former Delta Force and Black Ops specialist who is now lending his talents to California Attorney General Patrick Tanner as a special assistant and senior investigator. His current order of business is to stem the flow of high-quality cocaine into California. But there is only one major problem: the vicious drug cartel he is targeting is determined not to go down without a fight.

Lipinski knows drug traffickers couldnt care less about maiming or killing people. With a tough road ahead of him, he partners with a diva-like litigator and a beautiful FBI agent and heads to the California-Mexico border. Meanwhile, although the brilliant computer hacker has just escaped being sold into white slavery, Katla Oesterhalles destiny now lies in the hands of a Latin American gangster determined to use her skills to pass on pertinent information about the cocaine syndicate. As Lipinski, his partners, and Oesterhalle embark on journeys to cripple the drug cartel, only time will tell if any will be successful enough to live to tell about it.

In this fast-paced thriller, a special investigator and his talented associates must do everything in their power to stop a dangerous cartel from smuggling dope worth billions into the United States.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491755860

Book preview

SNOWY ELIXIR

FORMULA FOR DEATH

Copyright © 2015 Roberto de Haro.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-5587-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5586-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900143

iUniverse rev. date: 04/15/2015

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1 Dealing Death

Chapter 2 Hazardous Developments

Chapter 3 Stress Points

Chapter 4 The Party

Chapter 5 The Extent Of Peril

Chapter 6 Treacherous Liaison

Chapter 7 Unforeseen Consequences

Chapter 8 Unavoidable Risks

Chapter 9 The Domino Effect

Chapter 10 Reckonings

Chapter 11 Connections

Chapter 12 Perilous Obversion

Chapter 13 Bartering

Chapter 14 Turning The Tables

Chapter 15 Ominous Moves

Chapter 16 Tracking The Prey

Chapter 17 Maneuvering The Prey

Chapter 18 Dangerous Detections

Chapter 19 The Cartel Strikes Back

Chapter 20 Applying Pressure

Epilogue

Author’s Note

To

my wife, Nancy,

referred to affectionately as the long-suffering Nancy

by our close friend

Professor Michael Olivas,

Endowed Chair and Professor of Law,

University of Houston Law Center

INTRODUCTION

Much has been said and written about the United States’ War on Drugs, a phrase coined during the early Nixon administration. Each year, the federal government spends more than $52 billion to prevent illegal substances from entering the United States and to check the sale of domestically produced marijuana and chemically prepared drugs. However, the availability of various illegal substances, such as cocaine, heroin, opium, and unlawful chemically manufactured drugs like crack/cocaine, continues to produce enormous revenues for criminals and drug organizations, especially foreign drug cartels. Major drug producers and sellers in South and Central America and elsewhere make billions of dollars manufacturing and shipping their products to US buyers with a dependence or an addiction to their products. US law enforcement agencies encounter critical challenges trying to curtail the import and sale of illegal substances: an almost insatiable demand by US buyers for drugs; enormous profits made by drug traffickers; and the intimidation and violence, including murders, drug gangs use to sell their products.

There are two major kinds of drug purveyors. First, big pharmaceutical corporations in the United States and other countries sell drugs legally, over the counter or by prescription. They spend millions of dollars to advertise and sell their products. The United States is the only major industrial country that allows drug manufacturers to advertise on TV. Many legal drugs marketed by big pharma create a dependency rather than an addiction. Dependency is like a craving, while addiction is controlling and overpowering. However, the pharmaceutical companies prey on potential users with slanted advertising promising relief from different afflictions. Too often, buyers disregard a drug’s harmful side effects, including possible dangerous outcomes from their consumption that may be more injurious to users than their afflictions. Big pharma also regularly sends attractive men and women to inform doctors about their new and revised drugs. By clever manipulation, including paying for expensive trips to conferences at exotic and desirable locations and other perks like free meals at elegant restaurants, they inveigle doctors into pushing their products to patients. Under the guise of research grants and various cooperation strategies, like clinical testing, the drug industry spent nearly $3.5 billion on payments to doctors and leading hospitals in the five-month period from August through December 2013. The information on doctors and teaching hospitals that received payments was made possible by the new initiative called Open Payments mandated by the Affordable Care Act.

The second purveyors of drugs are individuals and groups that sell illegal substances. Some are local producers that grow and sell marijuana on the street. And there are small operators of chemical laboratories that produce different kinds of drugs, like crack cocaine, Ecstasy, and crystal meth (methamphetamine). Central and South American drug cartels grow and transport large quantities of marijuana for sale in the United States. Dangerous drug cartels also produce huge quantities of cocaine, opium, heroin, and other illegal substances for sale in the United States. The big, well-financed cartels are treacherous and difficult to break. The responsibility for preventing the sale of illegal drugs and substances in the United States falls on local and federal police departments and agencies. Their task is herculean and their resources limited.

The US Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) is handicapped by restricted funding and staff. Limited human and financial resources restrain efforts to curtail the activities of the major drug cartels, especially those selling high-end drugs. In the United States, high-quality drug use, especially among the very wealthy, represents a billion-dollar industry. High-end buyers have an almost insatiable demand for drugs like cocaine. To protect their wealthy clients from law enforcement agencies, bribes and intimidation, including brutal injuries and even the killing of police officers and members of their immediate families, occur. Moreover, high-end drug cartels often anonymously inform on smaller drug groups to the DEA and local police. These drug busts provide a diversion and give the police and the media something to share with the American public, while high-end drug dealers continue their activities.

Illegal weapons and ammunition sales are a by-product of drug trafficking. To protect their business from rivals and the authorities, drug groups buy and use automatic weapons. Illegal gun sales are a lucrative business for groups that provide small arms, often Chinese-made copies of US and European guns, like the new American KRISS Vector submachine gun and the Austrian Glock 18C pistols with automatic-fire capability. The US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives is also understaffed and hard-pressed to check the spread of easily concealed submachine guns with armor-piercing bullets.

To better understand how different federal, state, and local law enforcement units try to cope with drug trafficking and illegal arms sales, various groups and agencies were contacted. Local law enforcement agencies, through their public relations personnel, were helpful in defining their challenges and explaining how they deal with the problems and cooperate with other law enforcement groups. Public information personnel at most federal agencies were courteous and helpful, answering requests about programs to interdict illegal substances and weapons. Public relations officers in local law enforcement provided valuable references and sources of follow-up for questions about drug trafficking and the illegal sale of small arms and ammunition.

As this novel deals with cutting-edge computer use and hacking, I contacted experts at various major universities working closely with local and national security agencies and private corporations. American private businesses are constantly seeking sophisticated counterintelligence measures to protect themselves from unwanted penetration of their databases and information gathering and use techniques. As an example, an invasive malware can be embedded in the popular Flashlight smart application that captures a person’s confidential and sensitive information. That information is gathered by people in China, India, and Russia and sold to criminal groups. Various university experts shared critical insights and sources of significant evidence about cybercrime and especially highly sophisticated computer hacking.

In addition to private experts, people at Homeland Security and the National Security Agency / Central Security Public Information were helpful. These federal groups answered numerous questions and inquiries about their programs and about experimental efforts involving encryption and deciphering of various types of communications.

I contacted several federal specialists about cybercrime, illegal intelligence gathering, and different types of computer hacking. People at the FBI, NSA, and Homeland Security were generous with their ideas, time, and information about ways to attack cybercrime and unlawful database penetrations. Two retired judges, a former district attorney, and several lawyers were consulted about legal procedures regarding intelligence gathering, wiretapping, and surveillance tactics. Marsha Marovich, a retired attorney, was a source of invaluable assistance with legal procedures. Also, two retired attorneys formerly with the California attorney general’s office were most helpful and generous with their time.

The story in this book is not a pretty one and even pessimistic in a few places. Unlawful drug trafficking and illegal arms sales continue to earn enormous profits for drug and arms dealers. Illegal automatic weapons and armor-piercing bullets provide murderous ordinance that seriously injures or kills law enforcement personnel. A by-product is indiscriminate shootings that target gang rivals and injure or kill innocent bystanders.

Most of the information provided in this novel is factual. And the introduction of what sounds like science fiction is based on new technology under development and experimentation by high-tech companies. Drones, low-flying satellites, and improved surveillance cameras are increasingly sophisticated and relied on by law enforcement agencies to combat crime. Many private citizens and an increasing number of businesses and corporations have installed surveillance cameras as deterrents against crime. Cybercrime is an increasing activity with lucrative profits for unscrupulous computer experts and hackers around the world. Many computer criminals are brilliant and creative and prey on unsuspecting individuals, businesses, and even major corporations. Trying to keep up with their cybercrime activities is a demanding activity for local, state, national, and international law enforcement groups. Private industries spend billions of dollars to protect themselves and their clients from cybercriminals who continue to find ways of breaking into databases and sensitive files and selling information to buyers for use in identity theft and other illegal activities.

As the author, I alone am responsible for anything that may raise questions or seem improbable. However, a novel is fiction, and a writer should always challenge the imagination, and reality, to tell a compelling story.

Roberto de Haro

CHAPTER 1

DEALING DEATH

We are dancing on a volcano.

—Narcisse Achille, Comte de Salvandy

At a fête given by the Duc d’Orleans for

the King of Naples (1830)

Beads of perspiration flooded over his body as he stood silently in a doorway listening and watching in the darkness at the edge of a favela in Rio de Janeiro. Christ, doesn’t it ever cool off? thought Lipinski, holding his weapon with a noise suppressor at the ready. He was part of a Black Operations team sent to kill a former navy SEAL gone rogue, now working for drug traffickers in Rio. You never volunteered for Black Ops. These hit squads were mainly affiliated with the Department of Defense and the CIA. Membership on these clandestine teams was by invitation only. When Lipinski was recruited to join a team, his senior army noncom said, Lipinski, these guys are the fucking best at what they do. If you join ’em, remember, they’re hard-ass sons a’ bitches, and killing is what they do best. Now on his third assignment with an elite hit team, he waited in the shadows, ready to terminate an American. His assignment on the team was to cover one of the exit routes from the favela where the SEAL was hiding. His thoughts drifted as he waited in the dark, humid night, pondering why the SEAL had gone rogue.

He wondered if life as part of a Black Ops team changed people, making some of them go south. The teams recruited from the marines, Army Special Forces, navy SEALs, and others specialized in advanced forms of combat, martial arts, killing, surveillance, and antiterrorist skills. Could what caused the SEAL to go rouge happen to him? A barely audible sound immediately focused his attention in the direction of the noise. His body tensed, hearing the subdued sound of a suppressor followed by two quick shots. A figure he didn’t recognize emerged from the dark, winding street, moving rapidly toward him. Unconcerned about collateral damage, Lipinski fired twice, hitting the runner and immediately turning sideways to present as small a target as possible for any return fire. The dark figure got off a shot at him that splintered the old wooden frame to his right and grazed the front of Lipinski’s black body armor. In a rapid motion, Lipinski dropped to a knee, switched his selector to automatic, and fired a burst of bullets at the figure. Two of his shots found their marks and dropped the runner to the ground. Lipinski was on him in a flash, recognizing the SEAL from a photograph before shooting him in the head, killing without hesitation. He heard Marston, the team leader, approach and give the identification signal to avoid getting shot.

I got him, Lipinski said coldly.

Did you finish him? whispered the team leader.

Lipinski nodded, and before he could say anything, Marston said, The motherfucker knifed the Brazilian Army liaison guy and shot Nunes. They’re both dead. I’ll get the rest of the team, and we’re out of here.

The Brazilian Army had provided the American team with two liaison officers. The SEAL killed one of them and Nunes, a former marine who was part of Lipinski’s squad.

The Black Ops team gave the body of the dead Brazilian to Brazil Army officers. Then they loaded quickly into black vehicles and drove directly to a prearranged landing zone, where a helicopter picked them up for transit to a secret air base. The team transferred to an unmarked four-engine turboprop along with the bodies of Nunes and the dead navy SEAL. Once in the air, Captain Syzmanski, the officer in charge, approached Lipinski and praised him for terminating the SEAL.

He was a bad motherfucker, the captain volunteered, but he ran into a better trooper.

Am I a better trooper? wondered Lipinski. Or was I just lucky? It wasn’t luck, Lipinski realized. He was a trained killer and among the best that lived by the knife and the gun. He wondered how much longer he could continue to kill before something within him said enough. It nagged him until after an assignment in Beirut provided the answer. A few months later, he left Black Ops and the army and joined a law enforcement agency.

***

It was late on a Friday afternoon, years later, and Dale Lipinski, working for California attorney general Patrick Tanner as a special assistant and senior investigator, looked out his office window in Oakland at the haze that lingered over San Francisco Bay. The autumn air was sluggish, and the layer of pastel-gray hovering over the bay meant another warm evening. From his vantage point, he could see the Bay Bridge and, beyond, the familiar outline of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Tanner recruited Lipinski because he had skills that none of his other staff members possessed. Lipinski was a controversial but highly successful cop in the LA County Sheriff’s Department. His methods were unorthodox, but his arrest and conviction rate was among the best in the LACSD. Tanner didn’t need more litigators and supporting staff. He required someone with a broad range of experience in police work and someone not afraid to use his weapon when necessary. Lipinski’s military file intrigued Tanner, and he often pressed Lipinski to talk about the blanks in his army records. Lipinski just smiled and said it was classified. Tanner respected his silence but was curious about the secret work he’d done in the army.

A mutual trust quickly developed between Lipinski and Tanner. Lipinski was loyal to the AG and proved it on several occasions. Initially, Lipinski was surprised whenever the AG requested his perspective on a case or turned to him for reactions and advice on assignments and complex matters. But as time passed, Lipinski was pleased when Tanner, after listening to the viewpoints of other staff on a project, asked for his opinion. He was rewarded when the AG took his advice, even when it was contrary to what others in the office supported. This working relationship with Tanner made Lipinski’s job in the AG’s office worthwhile, especially when it involved complex cases like the file on his desk.

The AG had given Lipinski a project that was perplexing because of the high-grade cocaine involved. Lipinski read the file carefully and outlined three major points. Drugs crossing into California were DEA’s responsibility. However, there were indications that local law enforcement agencies were involved. Moreover, the high-quality coke was expensive, but there was no evidence of money changing hands. The second conundrum was a string of injuries to law enforcement personnel in Southern California, including the mysterious deaths of several cops over a five-year period. The deaths were listed as accidents. The number of accidents alerted the AG and raised a warning signal for Lipinski. The third piece of the puzzle was ammunition, large amounts crossing into Mexico. The ammo was mostly nine-millimeter for handguns, and the 7.62 x 39–mm caliber used in AK-47s. Nine-mm ammo was also used in two different kinds of short-barreled machine guns, HK MP7s and Skorpions, favorites of drug gangs.

He was asked to review the file, make some recommendations, and, if necessary, go to Southern California and sniff around. Lipinski stood and stretched his rugged six-foot-one muscular frame. He’d served six years in the army as a Delta Force and Black Ops specialist. After leaving the army, he joined the LACSD, completed his bachelor’s, went to law school in the evenings, got his law degree, and passed the bar. His combination of physical skills, deadly training in the army, and experience with the LACSD had molded him into one tough motherfucker, as Becker, his former boss in the sheriff’s department and now the chief of police in Santa Rosa, referred to him. Lipinski was bright and had a penchant for action that resulted in the deaths of several criminals in Los Angeles. Some in the LA District Attorney’s office considered him a cowboy, willing to use his gun and martial arts to close a case.

Jan Seward, a captain in the LA Sheriff’s Department, promoted Lipinski to lieutenant over the objections of some senior personnel in the LACSD. After his promotion to lieutenant, the Los Angeles DA, the FBI, and two other federal agencies tried to recruit him. He never responded to the invitations. Jan Seward liked Lipinski and protected him when senior personnel in the department wanted to reprimand and break him for acting on his own initiative and using unorthodox methods to solve cases. However, after a serious disagreement with senior-echelon personnel in the LACSD over shooting and killing a female murderer, Seward, still protecting him, said his future in LA was limited. He left LA and took a job working directly with the AG.

Lipinski made a few notes in the file, left a message for the office secretary to contact three people in Southern California, and sent an e-mail to Angie Carpenter, a special agent for the FBI. Angie was an instructor/evaluator during his antiterrorism training at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. After he had completed the antiterrorist training program, he and Angie became intimate and rendezvoused three or four times a year in different parts of the United States. Lipinski liked Angie because she was bright, analytical, tough, street-smart, and attractive. He would often call to discuss a case and rely on her advice. He knew the current case would intrigue and interest her.

It was just after six when he left the building and walked toward the Oakland Civic Center Bay Area Rapid Transit station. Hesitating before going into the BART station because he had no dinner plans, Lipinski instead walked to a favorite Oakland Chinatown restaurant. Lei Ling, a tall, leggy Asian hostess—who reminded Lipinski of Kelly Hu, an Asian American actress—greeted him with a smile and asked if he was alone. He nodded and whispered that she was gorgeous. She winked and smoothly inquired if he wanted a table or preferred to sit at the bar. He canted his head toward the bar, walked to the end, and sat at a favorite spot. It was a signal for Lei to approach him later, when her duties permitted, with the pretext of getting a glass of club soda.

Big Brother, the owner, knew Lipinski liked Lei and overlooked their relationship. Lipinski had helped Big Brother when young toughs from a Chinese mob in Shanghai wanted him to hire people from Mainland China to push drugs and prostitution in his establishment. Lipinski had set a trap for the thugs, killed one of them, and left the others unconscious with drugs and their automatic weapons in a car and then called the Oakland cops. The Shanghai mob sent two enforcers to locate and eliminate whoever was responsible for killing one of their gang. However, Lipinski learned from an informer about the enforcers and brutally killed both of them. Through an intermediary, he sent the Chinese mob boss a message to back off or lose more of his people. Lipinski knew that contract killers were expensive to hire, and if they were killed savagely by an expert, the price for the assignment became too high for most groups to consider. Rather than spend the extra money or risk losing more people, the Shanghai gang turned its attention elsewhere.

Just before Lipinski finished dinner, Lei approached the bar and asked Jimmy, the bartender, for a refill of club soda. You busy tonight? Lipinski whispered.

Why? she asked, raising her left eyebrow.

Come over?

She smiled and said she got off at ten.

I’ll be up, he said as a double entendre.

She got the message, briefly wagged her left index finger at him, and said, Maybe.

He paid the bill and left, noticing Lei’s slight nod that indicated she accepted his invitation.

It was dusk when Lipinski exited the Richmond BART station and walked toward his car. Furtive movement among the parked cars caught his attention. He’d been trained in the army and later at LACSD to notice anything out of the ordinary. He took a few minutes to study the parking lot and quickly determined that someone was breaking into the parked cars. Richmond had a reputation for criminal activity that ranged from frequent petty theft to weekly stabbings, shootings, and killings. After spotting three men working together and communicating by using short signal whistles, he called the BART police on his cell phone. He stealthily approached the nearest thief, used a martial arts move to knock him to the ground, pressed the nose of his Glock automatic into the man’s ear, and whispered, Don’t warn your buddies. You do, and I’ll put one in you. Whistle for them to come over.

Frightened, the man gave out a special whistle that caused the others to move toward him. When they approached, the one in front turned into the aisle and saw Lipinski. He yelled to the other to split, turned, and was about to run when Lipinski took aim, fired, and nicked him high on the shoulder. It was enough to cause the young thief to stumble and fall. Dragging the other man and knowing there was no way to apprehend the third, Lipinski yelled at the man he’d shot, Stay put, or I’ll put one in your hip and you’ll limp for the rest of your life!

The man froze.

A few minutes later, the BART police arrived. Lipinski showed his ID to the officer in charge and said he’d seen the two men and another breaking into cars. The BART cop in charge thanked Lipinski and said he’d need to go with them to book the thieves. Out of the corner of his eye, Lipinski saw one of the BART cops kick the wounded man hard in the stomach. He excused himself, walked to where the cop was harassing the thief, and in a low voice said, You want to stop that.

What’d you say? replied the cop, a tall man with a developing gut.

Lipinski motioned for the cop to talk with him in private while the other two read the thugs their rights. Once out of earshot, he whispered, Look, Officer, if you go easy on them, they may give up the other guy; you’ll have the three of them. But if you fuck ’em up, they won’t tell you shit. And you know what? I’ll sign a statement to that effect and have your fat ass reprimanded. We clear?

The BART cop blinked, and Lipinski could see him grappling with what he’d said.

Dumb son of a bitch, thought Lipinski.

After making a statement at the Richmond Police Station, Lipinski called the AG to tell him he’d stopped a robbery and shot one of the robbers. Every time Lipinski fired his weapon, he had to go before a shooting board and was placed on paid administrative leave. It was a pain in the ass, often because people on the board knew his reputation as a shooter and had a prejudicial impression of him as a cowboy.

Later that evening, Lipinski arrived at his Point Richmond home. From the front, facing east, it looked like a modest, well-kept ranch-style home. But on the western side, the house had stunning, unimpeded views of San Francisco and Marin County. He was annoyed by the prospects of filling out forms, going before the shooting board, and other bureaucratic procedures. Lipinski’s mood changed when Lei, waiting for him, handed him a joint and a vodka gimlet, his favorite drink.

Saw you on TV, she said with a smirk, while putting her arms around his neck. You looked pissed.

He rolled his eyes and said, That’s all I need. Was it on KTVU?

She giggled and stroked him, immediately arousing him. He lifted her in his arms and headed for the bedroom while she teased, You gonna arrest me? Spank me?

***

A few days earlier, five senior bank officers, two from the United States, one from the United Kingdom, another from Switzerland, and the fifth from the Cayman Islands were having lunch at a private club in London. They were there to discuss a shared problem. The bankers were in a room designated private but regularly swept for listening devices. There was tension in the room as the men contemplated a shared irritant.

It’s getting worse, one of the US bankers began. We got hit again, this time for ten thousand dollars on the last transfer.

I warned you, said the frowning Cayman Island bank officer. Our customers will not reimburse us for these losses. We have to absorb them or lose the clients.

What about the firm we retained to investigate? asked the UK banker.

We paid them a bundle, and all they reported was that there are several hackers and they would vanish as soon as we tried to trace them, scoffed one of the Americans. And they told us the hackers would return later and cause the problems again, he added with contempt.

New to the group, the Swiss banker ate his lunch, listening quietly to the angry conversation among the others because of the money they were losing. After consuming as much as he wanted of the expensive and delicious lunch, the Swiss banker sipped the outstanding white wine, wiped his lips with a linen napkin, and smiled.

Something amusing? asked the swarthy Cayman Island banker. The others turned to look at the Swiss.

We are all victims of this clever ring of hackers, he said softly. Perhaps we need to call in specialists.

I believe we’ve tried that, the Brit said condescendingly.

Yes, added one of the Americans, we hired the best security company and they can’t stop these thieves.

No, said the Swiss politely, I was referring to a group that tracks down and eliminates this kind of nuisance.

Nonplussed, they all stared at him.

What group? asked the Cayman Island banker.

The Swiss asked for a slip of paper and wrote something before passing it to the others.

The Thanatos Group! What the hell is that? asked the Cayman Island banker while the others looked at the Swiss.

In the next few minutes, the Swiss banker told them about the group. It never advertised, its location was secret, and they worked only on the recommendation of a trusted and reliable client.

They identify and eliminate nuisances, the Swiss said coolly. Their methods can be harsh, but they are effective. They have a splendid track record.

Why haven’t we heard about them? asked one of the Americans.

If you’re squeamish about eliminating irritants, they will not accept you as a client.

You mean they hurt people? asked the Brit.

They do more than hurt people, added the Swiss.

The mood at the table turned somber.

I don’t know, one of the Americans said contemplatively.

If you really want to end the pilfering diminishing our profits and affecting our reputations, the Swiss stressed, then retaining this group is the answer.

The other four talked among themselves until they agreed with the Swiss.

All right, said the Cayman Island banker. How do we contact them?

I’ll refer them to one of you, said the Swiss. Because it involves assets in your country, said the Swiss, nodding in the direction of the New York banker, you should be the contact person.

The American banker hesitated, but the others stared insistently, forcing him to squeamishly say, I wouldn’t know how to do this sort of thing.

He was about to add something when the Swiss raised a delicate hand with manicured fingers and said, Not to worry, the group will handle all of it discreetly. We’ll share the cost among us, if they stop the pilfering. If they don’t, all we’ll give them is a good-faith retainer.

They discussed it and finally agreed to engage the Thanatos Group. The New York banker swallowed hard, wondering what the hell he was getting into. They kill people, he worried, queasy about involvement with the Thanatos Group.

You’ll be contacted in about a week, said the Swiss banker. They will use the code TGS and say they were referred to you because of an asset-distribution matter. They’ll take it from there. Do exactly as they tell you.

***

Five days later, the New York banker’s private secretary said he had a call from someone at TGS.

I’ll take it on my secure line, he said and had the call transferred.

When he answered, a woman’s voice came on the line and mentioned a referral from someone in Switzerland. She suggested a meeting. A car would pick him up in front of his building at a designated day and time.

Be alone, she told him, and do not mention this meeting to anyone. Her soft voice turned firm with the warning.

A few days later, he was picked up by a dark sedan and driven to an area of tall buildings in Lower Manhattan. They approached a zone where several new high-rise buildings were under construction. The car entered an underground parking facility where two men were waiting. They used an electronic wand to determine if he was carrying any weapons, cameras, or recording devices. After examining his portfolio, they escorted him through a tunnel to another building where they went up on a high-speed elevator. The elevator stopped, and the door opened on a vacant floor with partitions. He was searched again before being escorted to a spot with a view of the Hudson River where two men in dark suits and a woman dressed in an expensive tailored suit were waiting. All of them were wearing gloves. One of the men was short and stocky with a cold demeanor. The other was tall and trim with dark, deep-set eyes and thin lips. No names were exchanged. Instead, the banker was told to be seated. The woman, speaking in English with an accent he could not place, asked the banker to succinctly state the problem. He did, without mentioning the clients involved. She asked pointed questions, took notes, and inquired if the bank had retained a security firm. He nodded.

What did they learn? she asked casually. After the banker replied, the woman turned to the tall man and he handed her a file. She showed it to the banker, who after examining it was surprised.

How did you get this? he asked. This report is confidential.

She smiled and in a dismissive way continued asking him questions about the frequency of the transfers, the number of times funds had been taken, the amounts, and if another wire transfer was scheduled soon. He replied that only five people knew when the wire transfers would happen.

I asked if there was another transfer scheduled soon, not who knows about it, she chided, her blue eyes staring at him with an intensity that unnerved the banker. He answered her question. She continued to ask questions until she was satisfied she had the required information. She handed him a card with an international number and a cell phone.

This is an international phone. You can use it only once. Call this number before the next transfer takes place. After that, wipe it clean and discard it. You must give us at least a twenty-four-hour advance notice of the transfer, she stressed. We want a three-hundred-thousand-dollar retainer, funds to be wired to this account, she said, handing him a card with the electronic identification of a bank and a numbered account. When the hackers are identified, we will offer you options to deal with them. After the problem is eliminated, our fee will be two million euros.

He gulped and nodded. It was a high price, but shared among the five banks, it could be written off as a legitimate business expense.

If anything else is needed, we will contact you, she said, standing. She whispered something to the short, stocky man before turning to face him. If you mention our group or this meeting to anyone other than your confederates, it will go badly for you, she said firmly and with a hardness in her eyes that further unnerved the banker. He was led to the elevator where the two men who escorted him into the building were waiting. After returning to his office, he called the others and made the $300,000 payment. That evening, as he was driven home, he wondered about the Thanatos Group and who they were. He remembered the icy chill he’d felt when looking into the eyes of the woman and two men. The woman, in particular, frightened him.

***

The private jet flying a senior US senator from his western state stopped in Dayton, Ohio, to refuel. While on the ground, the tall, trim man who’d been in Manhattan with the banker spoke in private with the senator. This is what we need, he said, handing the senator an envelope. Ten thousand will be deposited in one of your campaign funds now. Another ten will be deposited once we get the information.

The senator nodded, turned, and boarded the jet.

A few days later, Joyce Cambrun, a team leader with Tailored Access Operations at the National Security Agency in Maryland, met with five of her staff.

Listen up, people, she said. We have a priority assignment. She handed out two documents for them to read. These docs stay here. No copies, no notes. This is what we need. Two of her staff groaned and started to protest. Cambrun snapped at them, Drop what you’re doing. If it’s important, let me know and I’ll get it reassigned. This project has immediate priority.

After three days and late evenings of intensive research and intelligence gathering by Cambrun’s TAO team, they met to share what they had.

Good, said Cambrun. A wire transfer will be initiated tomorrow by this bank to this address. We need to monitor it carefully and catch any irregularities.

Like what? asked one of the team members.

It’s likely the transfer will be intercepted and delayed and a portion of the transfer withheld and rerouted. We need to know the source of the interception and as much as possible about where the withheld funds go. One of the team members was about to ask a question, but Cambrun cut her off and said, See me afterward.

The next day, when the wire transfer went through, a hidden rider known only to TAO traced the transfer. When the transfer was intercepted, the hidden rider attached itself to the main part of the transfer and also to the small portion withheld and sent through several steps to clean it and not leave a trail. However, the rider was one of several highly sophisticated mechanisms NSA used to track electronic communications.

The following day, Cambrun delivered the secret report to a two-star general at Central Security Service.

Good job, the major general told Cambrun. No record and no paper on this one. I’ll put a commendation in your personnel file. She smiled and left.

***

The information in the NSA file was recast to remove any links to the agency and delivered to the senator. That evening, on his way to dinner, the senator left the file in the back of his limo. A courier retrieved the file and delivered it to one of the TGS men who met with the banker. The file was encrypted and sent electronically to an address in Brussels. After receiving confirmation of its arrival, the original file was destroyed. A TGS courier delivered the file to a tall, well-dressed man in Brussels who decoded it and called someone to say the one-five-zed file had arrived.

In a modern glass-and-steel multistoried building in Brussels, three people examined the file and discussed its contents. Thorin Ukkel, a tall, slender man with ash-blond hair and sharp features, spoke up.

Helmut, we have the addresses of three of the hackers. There are more. How do you propose we proceed? The man called Helmut Mechelen was short, stocky, perhaps in his mid- to late forties, with strong, powerful hands.

The three need to be apprehended simultaneously and encouraged to cooperate and share the names of their associates, he said coldly.

The third person, a beautiful, slender, dark-haired woman named Marguerite Lier, nodded before asking, How soon can you make the arrangements?

Tonight, replied Helmut.

Do so, said Marguerite. Make them talk, she added icily.

Marguerite Lier was born and grew up in Denmark. After two years of university study, she was recruited by the Danish Defense Intelligence Service (DDIS). She served with Forsvarets Efterretningstjeneste (FE) for several years before leaving FE after accidentally killing a Mossad agent. Marguerite was subsequently recruited and trained by a private security firm and later learned different killing techniques by former Russian Spetsnaz and British SAS instructors. She became a specialist with guns, explosives, and especially poisons. The Thanatos Group recruited her to function as an assassin.

Thirty-six hours later, in Copenhagen, Vienna, and Helsinki, three computer hackers were apprehended swiftly by teams of trained former military personnel from Russia, Germany, and Britain. The hackers were taken to secret locations, where they were tortured savagely. The fat one from Copenhagen was the first to crack after suffering almost an hour of electroshock treatments to his genitalia and tongue. The Austrian was next and talked after ten bones in his feet and legs were shattered with a steel rod. The Finn died after a few hours but not before verifying what the others had confessed. The team leaders sent the names and addresses of a woman in Amsterdam and two men, one in Luxembourg and the other in Sint Maarten. Snatch-and-grab teams were immediately dispatched to apprehend them. The young men were captured, but the woman evaded them temporarily, fleeing to Canada before apprehended changing planes in Panama while heading for Brazil. She was taken by private jet to Curacao for interrogation.

Katla Oesterhalle, the Dutch woman, was in her midtwenties, slender, about five five, with dyed-red hair and several tattoos and body piercings. She had deep-set blue eyes and dark-red eyebrows. Her long, slender fingers could dance on a keyboard like a concert pianist playing one of Chopin’s most demanding pieces. She tried to remain indifferent to her situation, watching and waiting for an opportunity to escape or bargain with her captors. She was struck a few times by her female guards but not in the head or face. A blow to the groin by one of the muscular female guards doubled her over and made her vomit. But she uttered no sound other than the noise while retching.

The following day, she was taken out of her cell to a room where she was tied to a wall. Her guards, two strong females and an impassive muscular man, were stoic and efficient. She was watched on a TV surveillance monitor and regularly checked by one of the three guards. Katla remained tied and alone for almost six hours. She used a bathroom to empty her bowels but was immediately returned to the room and tied in an uncomfortable position, standing up with her arms fastened above her head and her legs firmly attached to a separator bar. She’d dozed off when the door opened. Marguerite entered the room with the female guards and a short, bald-headed man wearing glasses and a wicked-looking sneer on his face.

Marguerite walked up to Katla, took a drag from her Gitanes, and slowly blew the smoke into the hacker’s face. Marguerite was five eight, with long, shapely legs and an attractive face with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. Her teeth were perfect, and her eyes blue and hard.

She spoke in Dutch to Katla, her voice direct and firm. You are a clever girl, badgered Marguerite. But not clever enough. Katla looked at her with a burning stare. You don’t like me? Marguerite teased. Perhaps you want to strike me? Foolish girl! She turned to the bald-headed man and said, Soften her up for me, and walked out of the room.

Katla was taken to a room, stripped naked, and tied to a slanted platform with her legs spread apart and fastened in stirrups. Her ankles and arms were strapped with copper strips connected to wires leading to a black box on an adjacent table. A metal band was strapped tightly to her head. The bald-headed man smiled to reveal uneven teeth and put on a rubber apron and rubber gloves. The two women looked on with cynical smiles, knowing what was coming.

Now, hissed the bald man, we will test you. He turned a switch on the black box and an electrical current jolted Katla, the intense pain causing her to arch her back